Noctem
by JojoLightningfingers
Summary: Abe, unable to sleep, does some thinking. It's mostly about Mihashi. AbeMihashi, fluff.


**Look, she posted something! **

**I'm way too into Big Windup! at the moment. I must blame Chae for that. But man, it's amazing, English dub especially. Having the Hitachiin twins playing baseball (with Hikaru as my absolute favorite character from pretty much anything ever) is a sell for me.**

**But for now, have some AbeMihashi fluff. Derp, this is so terrible. I'm ashamed. But I wanted to finally write another story.**

* * *

><p>For Abe, nighttime usually meant sleep. Not this time. This time, he was wide awake and staring at the moon and Mihashi, one after the other, over and over. He was thinking.<p>

Ever since the day he'd first met their pitcher, he had been reminded of a scared animal. The way he looked around in every possible direction with wide eyes nine times a second only furthered that analogy. Since finding him whimpering and crying against the wall at the doing of Mihoshi's catcher, and holding the calloused hand in his own, Abe had been determined to put him to good use. He had told Mihashi so, and the idea seemed to help him.

Abe wanted him to truly become the ace. At first, it was for selfish reasons—he wanted everyone to know that they had the best pitcher there was. Eventually, he figured out that it was because he wanted Mihashi to stop being so nervous and gain his self-confidence, even if it was only triggered by his own presence behind the plate. He hated the Mihoshi kids for doing this to him. It made him want to punch someone.

When Mihashi was sleeping was the only time he ever looked truly at peace, Abe thought, turning back to watch the serene face. The mess of orange hair was even messier now, rumpled in slumber. He looked relaxed—the catcher wondered what he might be dreaming, if he was at all.

Going back to his ponderings. Despite the fact that Mihashi clearly trusted and believed in him, he still jumped whenever the catcher had to reprimand him. _Looking back, I'm too hard on him_, Abe thought. _He misses a pitch, but I called the shot, and I'm so mad at myself, I take it out on him_. It was a process he went through frequently, and even though he'd always make amends when he reached the end of the cycle, perhaps he always came off as just intimidating and irked enough to seem insincere. He did notice that one of the other guys had to reassure him immediately afterward.

It all went back to nerves. Abe turned away from the moon again to gaze at the pitcher, who had shifted in his sleep. Psychologically, this kid was a total wreck. Abe wanted nothing as badly as to help him, even more than he wanted him to believe he was a great pitcher.

It was hard to change his gruff nature, it was just how he was. But he could at least try. Abe knew he had the worst hair-trigger temper there was, and that it could be damaging Mihashi without him knowing.

Abe, lost in these and many other thoughts, didn't notice his hand had cupped Mihashi's cheek and that he was running his fingers lightly down his neck, almost as if he was trying to calm him down. When he came ot, he jerked his hand away, irrationally flustered. Ridiculous, he chided himself. Even if Mihashi had been awake, doing that would have just confused him or made him flip out.

Yet, he couldn't stop himself from doing it again, rough fingerpads brushing along the soft face and gently-beating pulse. When he finally made himself drag his hand away and lay back down on the futon, he still couldn't keep himself from turning over his feelings and thoughts in his head, until he finally rolled over to face the pitcher and hesitantly put an arm around him. When he didn't react, Abe slowly rolled Mihashi over and brought him into a loose hold, squeezing him a bit. He was warm. It was comforting.

Not five seconds later, Abe was reminded just how light of a sleeper Mihashi was. The pitcher woke up, bleary eyes trying to focus on the blurred shape before him. Dimly registering body heat and a pair of arms around him, he connected this to his beloved catcher. "A-Abe?" he squeaked, blinking.

Abe jumped, swearing internally. "Yes?" he asked in a low voice. It came out as an angry-sounding growl.

Mihashi flinched away from the tone, eyes wide. When he finally put two and two together—realizing that another boy was hugging him—he panicked. Thrashing about and letting off a string of scared whimpers and chirps, (like always when he was frightened) the boy wriggled frantically, attempting escape.

"Cool it," Abe hissed, getting a hand over his mouth to silence him and holding him tight with the other. "Do you want everyone else to wake up and see this?"

He certainly did not, so he stopped moving, but for shaking like a leaf in the wind. Abe frowned at his trembling; Mihashi squeaked around his palm, eyes darting side to side.

Sighing a little, Abe uncomvered his mouth. "Mihashi, give me your hand," he ordered softly. Clearly confused, he did so. Ice cold, as expected. Abe could now feel the pitcher's heart beating through his shirt.

"You're freaking out, man, relax," he mumbled.

Mihashi felt Abe's fingers lace into his, fitting perfectly in the gaps. Making a soft, inquiring noise, he glanced from his hand, lingering on it a moment, to Abe's face, then back and forth again. At a quiet but still slightly irritated command from the catcher to lie still, he did, fixing his gaze on Abe's eyes.

For a while, they simply laid there, hands loosely locked together and Abe's free arm draped over Mihashi's side. The pitcher fidgeted, eyes wandering as time passed.

"Mihashi," Abe started. The boy jumped, tightening his grip on Abe's hand. Abe winced, but continued. "Mihashi, I don't want you to be nervous around me, okay?" He lightly squeezed the boy's hand. "Don't be scared of me." He eased closer to him, nuzzling his face against the pitcher's throat. It was less a gesture of intimacy, more to hide his reddening face.

Mihashi blinked, heart going berserk inside his chest. "Uh... o-okay," he said, calming down a little. After a minute of silence, he needed to say something. "Hey, Abe?" he asked, awkwardly reaching under the catcher to embrace him. He pulled him closer. Abe, surprised, looked up, then was forced to keep still as Mihashi crushed him against his body.

"Loosen up," Abe gasped.

He did. "Abe... thanks. I..."

"Hm?"

"I..." His stutter was back with a vengeance. When Abe looked up, he was once again looking for a way out.

"Go on..."

"I l... l-lo..." A nervous whining whimper came out of him, his face resembled a tomato.

Abe's eyes bugged. _Is he saying what I think he is?_

"I love you!" he burst at the top of his lungs, eyes closed. Momentary boldness over, he scooted back, face so red it was almost purple and eyes huge.

The catcher jolted back into his own futon, burrowing in as fast as possible When nobody showed any signs of waking up, Abe looked back at Mihashi, a hot blush painted on his cheeks and glaring. "Moron!" he hissed over, trying not to go over and knock him a good one. "What if someone had woken up!" Shaking his head and taking a final check to make sure nobody was awake, he settled down and scooted back over to Mihashi.

"Sorry, sorry!" he whispered, his high voice making it nearly inaudible. He warily crawled closer to Abe, reaching for his hand, but halting because of his expression.

The other reached out and took it, gently folding them in on each other. He pulled Mihashi into another hug. "It's fine." At his words, Abe felt warmth flow back into Mihashi's palm.

"I love you," the pitcher whispered. "I love you, I love you..."

"I heard you the first time," Abe mumbled. "I do too." When his body finally realized how late it was and how warm Mihashi was, he finally drifted off. Mihashi squeezed him tight and made himself comfortable, curiously euphoric.

They knew they were in trouble when they woke up to Tajima's wide grin.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews, please. I want to improve!<strong>


End file.
